“If you want. You won’t have ten minutes for a nap after today.”

Sam and Nate wanted to go exploring.

“You guys go on,” I told him. “I need to write a couple of letters.”

Apple went with me to the rec hall, where we settled at a table equipped with stationery and envelopes, even fountain pens and a bottle of ink. The place was pretty quiet, just some fellows playing Ping-Pong and a few reading magazines. Compton and another junior leader were talking over Coca-Colas, but they didn’t pay us any mind.

Dear Ma, I began my first letter, Well, I am in the CCC. I saw Pa and he is not hurt, but he has now moved on. I hope you will hear from him soon. Meanwhile, the CCC will send you most of my pay, so you’ll have that besides what I sent earlier.

Say hi to the kids for me and tell them I said help you some. I am all right. Love, Moss.

P.S. I am at an army post named Fort Missoula for a short time. When I get to a regular work camp, I will send you my address.

Writing Beatty was a different chore altogether. Once I got Dear Beatty down, I was stuck. I owed her—and her aunt and uncle and just about everybody I knew in Muddy Springs—an apology for taking off without saying good-bye or leaving word where I was going.

But I couldn’t figure out how to write it without sounding like I wanted them to be sorry for me, or like I was expecting their help.

I guess I must have made some sound, because Apple said, “Tough going?”

“Yeah. I need to right a wrong with my girl, and I don’t know how to start.”

“Can’t help you,” he said. “I’ve never had a girlfriend, though I got hopes. This here’s to my folks, ’cause my mother made me promise I’d write regular. She said the CCC couldn’t have me otherwise.”

I laughed. “She sounds like a nice mom.”

“Yeah. And Tennessee’s a long way away.”

I read over what I’d written so far—Dear Beatty—and added How are you? I am fine.

I crossed out fine. I didn’t want her thinking I thought things were too good, when I was away up here and her down there. I wondered if I should apologize up front or work into it, after doing some explaining.

Then Apple startled me, exclaiming “Hey!” as his pen skidded across the desk, spilling blue ink.

“Sorry!” It was Klein. He and his buddy, Colie Lukowski, were right behind Apple. Klein’s sorry didn’t sound at all like he meant it.

“What’d you hit me for?” Apple said. “You made me mess up my letter.”

“Oh no! Which one is it?” Klein said, snatching up both Apple’s and mine.